PATRIOTIC    POEMS. 


PATRIOTIC  POEMS. 


FRANCIS  DE  HAES  JANVIER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SKELETON  MONK,"  "TUB  VOYAGE  OF  LIFE,"  "THE  PALACE  OF  THE 
C.SSARS."  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   &   CO. 

1866. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &  CO., 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Eastern 
District  of  Pennsylvania. 

STEREOTYPED  BY   L.  JOHNSON  It  CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 


DEDICATED 


M  E  M  0  R  Y 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB 

THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 13 

THE  CUMBERLAND •    .        .24 

ELLET '  .        .        .27 

GETTYSBURG 35 

THE  UNION 42 

THE  SOUTHERN  CONFEDERACY  .        .        ...        .        .46 

GOD  SAVE  OUE  PRESIDENT  .        . 49 

GLENDINNING 51 

THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES 53 

THE  STIGMA     .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .59 

OUR  HEROES 66 

RAMS 69 

THE  WIDOW'S  SON 77 

LAUS  DEO 87 


V 


"  '•The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd; 

It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven, 
Upon  the  place  beneath  :  it  is  twice  bless' d  ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes  : 
'2~is  mightiest  in  the  mightiest;   it  becomes 
Ihe  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown: 
Sis  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 
Ihe  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 
Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings; 
F)U~k  mercy  is  above  this  sceptred  sway, 
It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings, 
It  is  an  attribute  to  G-od  himself; 
Jindj  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's 
When  mercy  seasons  justice." 


11 


THE    SLEEPING   SENTINEL. 


THE   SLEEPING  SENTINEL. 


TWAS  in   the  sultry  summer-time,  as  War's   red 

records  show, 
When  patriot   armies  rose  to  meet  a  fratricidal 

foe — 
When,  from  the  North,  and  East,  and  West,  like 

the  upheaving  sea, 
Swept  forth  Columbia's  sons,  to  make  our  country 

truly  free. 

Within   a  prison's   dismal  walls,  where   shadows 

veiled  decay — 
In  fetters,  on  a  heap  of  straw,  a  youthful  soldier 

lay: 

3  13 


14  THE    SLEEPING   SENTINEL. 

Heart-broken,  hopeless,  and  forlorn,  with  short  and 

feverish  breath, 
He  waited  but  the  appointed  hour  to  die  a  culprit's 

death. 

Yet,  but  a  few  brief  weeks  before,  untroubled  with 

a  care, 
He   roamed  at  will,  and   freely  drew   his   native 

mountain  air — 
Where  sparkling  streams  leap  mossy  rocks,  from 

many  a  woodland  font, 
And  waving  elms,  and  grassy  slopes,  give  beauty 

to  Vermont ! 

Where,  dwelling  in  an  humble  cot,  a  tiller  of  the 

soil, 
Encircled  by  a  mother's  love,  he  shared  a  father's 

toil- 
Till,   borne  upon   the  wailing  winds,  his  suffering 

country's  cry 
Fired  his  young  heart  with  fervent  zeal,  for  her  to 

live  or  die. 


THE   SLEEPING   SENTINEL.  15 

Then  left  he  all: — a  few  fond  tears,  by  firmness 

half  concealed, 
A  blessing,  and  a  parting  prayer,  and  he  was  in 

the  field— 
The  field  of  strife,  whose  dews  are  blood,  whose 

breezes  War's  hot  breath, 
Whose   fruits  are   garnered  in   the  grave,  whose 

husbandman  is  Death ! 

. 
Without  a  murmur,  he  endured  a  service  new  and 

hard; 
But,  wearied  with  a  toilsome  march,  it  chanced  one 

night,  on  guard, 
He   sank,  exhausted,  at   his   post,    and  the  gray 

morning  found 
His  prostrate   form — a  sentinel,  asleep,  upon  the 

ground ! 

So,  in   the    silence  of  the  night,  aweary,   on    the 

sod, 
Sank  the  disciples,  watching  near  the  suffering  Son 

of  God;— 


16  THE    SLEEPING   SENTINEL. 

Yet,  Jesus,  with  compassion  moved,  beheld  their 

heavy  eyes, 
And,  though  betrayed  to  ruthless  foes,  forgiving, 

bade  them  rise ! 

But  God  is    love, — and  finite  minds   can   faintly 

comprehend 
How  gentle  Mercy,  in  His  rule,  may  with  stern 

Justice  blend ; 
And   this   poor  soldier,  -seized   and  bound,  found 

none  to  justify, 
While  War's  inexorable  law  decreed  that  he  must 

die. 


'Twas  night. — In  a  secluded  room,  with  measured 

tread,  and  slow, 
A  statesman  of  commanding  mien,  paced  gravely 

to  and  fro. 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL.          17 

Oppressed,  he  pondered  on  a  land  by  civil  discord 

rent ; 
On  brothers  armed  in  deadly  strife: — it  was  the 

President ! 

The  woes  of  thirty  millions  filled  his  burdened 
heart  with  grief; 

Embattled  hosts,  on  land  and  sea,  acknowledged  him 
their  chief; 

And  yet,  amid  the  din  of  war,  he  heard  the  plaint 
ive  cry 

Of  that  poor  soldier,  as  he  lay  in  prison,  doomed 
to  die ! 


'Twas  morning. — On  a  tented  field,  and  through 

the  heated  haze, 
Flashed  back,  from  lines  of  burnished  arms,  the 

sun's  effulgent  blaze  ; 
2* 


18  THE   SLEEPING   SENTINEL. 

While,  from  a  sombre  prison-house,  seen  slowly  to 

emerge, 
A  sad  procession,  o'er  the  sward,  moved  to  a  muffled 

dirge. 

And  in  the  midst,  with  faltering  step,  and  pale  and 

anxious  face, 
In  manacles,  between  two  guards,  a  soldier  had  his 

place. 
A  youth — led  out  to  die; — and  yet,  it  was  not  death, 

but  shame, 
That  smote  his  gallant  heart  with  dread,  and  shook 

his  manly  frame! 

Still   on,  before   the  marshalled  ranks,   the  train 

pursued  its  way 
Up    to    the    designated    spot,    whereon    a   coffin 

lay — 
His  coffin !  And,  with  reeling  brain,  despairing — 

desolate — 
He  took  his  station  by  its  side,  abandoned  to  his 

fate! 


THE   SLEEPING   SENTINEL.  19 

Then   came    across    his   wavering   sight    strange 

pictures  in  the  air : — 
He  saw  his  distant   fountain  home;  he  saw  his 

parents  there; 
He  saw  them  bowed  with  hopeless  grief,  through 

fast-declining  years ; 
He  saw.  a  nameless  grave;   and  then,  the  vision 

closed — in  tears ! 

Yet,  once  again.  In  double  file,  advancing,  then, 
he  saw 

Twelve  comrades,  sternly  set  apart  to  execute  the 
law — 

But  saw  no  more : — his  senses  swam — deep  dark 
ness  settled  round — 

And,  shuddering,  he  awaited  now  the  fatal  volley's 
sound ! 

Then  suddenly  was  heard  the  noise  of  steeds  and 

wheels  approach, — 
And,  rolling  through  a  cloud  of  dust,  appeared  a 

stately  coach. 


20  THE   SLEEPING   SENTINEL. 

On,   past   the  guards,   and  through   the  field,  its 

rapid  course  was  bent, 
Till,  halting,  'mid  the  lines  was  seen  the  nation's 

President ! 

He  came  to  save  that  stricken  soul,  now  waking 

from  despair ; 
And  from  a  'thousand  voices  rose  a  shout  which 

rent  the  air ! 
The   pardoned    soldier   understood   the   tones  of 

jubilee, 
And,  bounding  from  his  fetters,  blessed  the  hand 

that  made  him  free  ! 


'Twas    Spring. — Within    a   verdant    vale,    where 

"Warwick's  crystal  tide 
Reflected,  o'er  its   peaceful  breast,  fair  fields   on 

either  side — 


THE    SLEEPING    SENTINEL.  21 

Where   birds    and    flowers   combined   to    cheer  a 

sylvan  solitude — 
Two   threatening   armies,  face   to  face,   in   fierce 

defiance  stood  ! 

Two  threatening  armies  !  One  invoked  by  injured 
Liberty — 

Which  bore  above  its  patriot  ranks  the  Symbol  of 
the  Free ; 

And  one,  a  rebel  horde,  beneath  a  flaunting  flag 
of  bars, 

A  fragment,  torn  by  traitorous  hands,  from  Free 
dom's  Stripes  and  Stars! 

A  sudden  shock  which  shook  the  earth,  'mid  vapor 

dense  and  dun, 
Proclaimed,  along  the  echoing  hills,  the  conflict  had 

begun ; 
While  shot  and   shell,  athwart  the  stream    with 

fiendish  fury  sped, 
To  strew  among  the  living  lines,  the  dying  and  the 

dead! 


22  THE   SLEEPING   SENTINEL. 

Then,  louder  than  the  roaring  storm,  pealed  forth 

the  stern  command, 
"  Charge  !  Forward,  charge !"  and,  at  the  word,  with 

shouts,  a  fearless  band, 
Two  hundred  heroes  from  Vermont,  rushed  onward, 

through  the  flood, 
And  upward,  o'er  the  rising  ground,  they  marked 

their  way  in  blood  ! 

The  smitten  foe  before  them  fled,  in  terror,  from 
his  post — 

While,  unsustained,  two  hundred  stood,  to  battle 
with  a  host ! 

Then,  turning,  as  the  rallying  ranks,  with  murder 
ous  fire,  replied, 

They  bore  the  fallen  o'er  the  field,  and  through  the 
purple  tide ! 

The  fallen !  And  the  first  who  fell  in  that  unequal 

strife, 
Was  he  whom  Mercy  sped  to  save  when  Justice 

claimed  his  life — 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL.         23 

The  pardoned  soldier!  And,  while  yet  the  conflict 

raged  around — 
While  yet  his  life-blood  ebbed  away  through  every 

gaping  wound — 

While  yet  his  voice  grew  tremulous,  and   death 

bedimmed  his  eye — 
He  called  his  comrades  to  attest,  he  had  not  feared 

to  die! 
And,  in  his  last  expiring  breath,  a  prayer  to  heaven 

was  sent — 
That  God,  with  His  unfailing  grace,  would  bless 

our  President  1 


THE   CUMBERLAND. 


A  SHOUT  of  defiance 

From  Freedom's  brave  sons ! 
It  blends  with  the  thunder 

Of  volleying  guns ! 
It  comes  from  the  ocean, 

Whose  shuddering  flood, 
Through  sulphurous  vapor, 

Eolls  purple  with  blood ! 
Defiance  to  Treason, 

In  Battle's  stern  breath — 
The  Cumberland  war-cry, 

Defiance  till  death ! 


24 


THE   CUMBERLAND.  25 

The  strife  was  unequal; — 

Material  gave 
The  stronger  a  triumph, 

The  weaker  a  grave ! 
Against  a  mailed  monster 

The  Cumberland  stood; — 
But  steam  baffled  canvas, 

And  iron  crushed  wood! 
She  sank,  while  yet  echoed   • 

Her  valorous  breath — 
The  Cumberland  war-cry, 

Defiance  till  death ! 

The  conflict  is  ended; — 

Above  the  blue  surge, 
The  wild  winds  are  wailing 

The  Cumberland's  dirge. — 
Her  flag,  never  lowered, 

Still  proudly  shall  show, 
The  spot  where  her  heroes 

Are  resting,  below: — 


26  THE   CUMBERLAND. 

And  Freedom  will  cherish 
To  Time's  latest  breath, 

The  Cumberland  war-cry, 
Defiance  till  death ! 


ELLET. 


COLONEL  CHARLES  ELLET,  JUNIOR,  commander  of  the  Steam- 
Ram  Fleet,  was  mortally  wounded  at  the  capture  of  Memphis, 
Tennessee,  June  6th,  1862,  and  died  at  Cairo,  Illinois,  June  21st, 
1862 


A  HERO  has  fallen ! 

Full  many  a  tear 
Is  bathing  the  banner 

Which  droops  o'er  his  bier; — 
And  Freedom  and  Science, 

In  sorrow,  combine 
A  chaplet  of  laurel 

And  cypress  to  twine. 

27 


28  ELLET. 


A  hero  has  fallen ! 

So  falls  the  proud  oak, 
When  cleaves,  through  the  tempest, 

The  lightning's  red  stroke  ; — 
While,  in  the  same  ruin, 

Is  borne  to  the  ground 
The  vine,  which  its  branches 

Had  lovingly  wound. 

CJ     J 

A  hero  has  fallen  ! 

We  yield  him  to  God — 
Eeceiving,  in  meekness, 

His  chastening  .rod. 
Though  darkness  divide  us, 

His  throne  is  above — 
The  God  of  the  orphan, 

Whose  title  is  Love ! 


GETTYSBURG. 


DEDICATED 


GEORGE  GORDON  MEADE, 

UNITED  STATES  ARMY. 


"  '•The  unity  of  Government,  which  constitutes  you 
one  people,  is  dear  to  you.  It  is  justly  so  •  for  it  is 
a,  main  pillar  in  the  edifice  of  your  real  independence, 
the  support  of  your  tranquillity  at  home,  your  peace 
abroad,'  of  your  safety  ;  of  your  prosperity  ;  of  that 
very  Liberty,  which  you  so  highly  prize.  Ijut  as  it  is 
easy  to  foresee,  that,  from  different  causes  and  from 
different  quarters,  much  pains  will  be  taken,  many 
artifices  employed,  to  weaken  in  your  minds  the  con 
viction  of  this  truth'  as  this  is  the  point  in  your 
political  fortress  against  which  the  batteries  of  inter 
nal  and  external  enemies  will  be  most  constantly  and 
actively  (though  often  covertly  and  insidiously)  di 
rected,  it  is  of  infinite  moment,  that  you  should  pro 
perly  estimate  the  immense  value  of  your  national 
Union  to  your  collective  and  individual  happiness' 


that  you  should  cherish  a  cordial,  habitual,  and  irre 
movable  attachment  to  it ;  accustoming  yourselves  to 
think  and  speak  of  it  as  of  the  (Palladium  of  your 
political  safety  and  prosperity  ;  watching  for  its  pre 
servation  with  jealous  anxiety ;  discountenancing 
whatever  may  suggest  even  a  suspicion,  that  it  can  in 
any  event  be  abandoned  ;  and  indignantly  frowning 
upon  the  first  dawning  of  every  attempt  to  alienate 
any  portion  of  our  country  from  the  rest,  or  to  enfeeble 
the  sacred  ties  which  now  link  together  the  variour. 
parts." 


GETTYSBURG. 


Two  hostile  hosts  are  gathered  here ; — 

Two  armies  rest  around  : 
And  yet,  no  picket  guard  is  near, 
No  pacing  sentinels  appear 

To  watch  the  camping  ground  ! 

No  rattling  drum,  no  screaming  fife, 
No  braying  trumpets'  breath, 

Gives  token  of  impending  strife ; 

There  comes  no  sound  of  martial  life ; — 
It  is  the  Camp  of  Death ! 

35 


3C  GETTYSBURG. 

The  camp  of  Death ! — The  warrior's  pride, 

The  sword,  and  sash,  and  plume, 
Are  here  forever  laid  aside; — 
Distinction  banished;  rank  denied; 
And  every  tent,  a  tomb ! 

Peace  breathes  a  requiem  o'er  the  past, 
"When,  down  this  tranquil  vale, 

In  smoke  and  flame,  swept  war's  wild  blast; 

While  thundering  guns  pealed  fierce  and  fast, 
Through  storms  of  iron  hail. 

The  battle  broke  o'er  field  and  grove, 

Like  a  resistless  flood ; 
And  on,  through  living  ramparts,  clove, 
Where  Life  and  Death  for  mastery  strove, 

In  agony  and  blood ! 

The  serried  squadrons  charged  and  fell 
Before  devouring  fire — 


GETTYSBURG.  37 

And  hissing  shot,  and  blazing  shell, 
Sent  like  some  blasting  bolt  from  hell, 
Heaped  one  vast  funeral  pyre ! 

And  Slaughter  strewed  the  purple  plain 

"With  torture  and  dismay; — 
'Till  strength  seemed  weak,  and  valor  vain ; 
And  grim  and  gasping,  'mid  the  slain, 

Full  many  a  hero  lay. 

Then  rose,  with  Victory's  joyous  tones, 

The  wailings  of  Despair; — 
And  mangled  flesh,  and  shattered  bones, 
And  oaths,  and  curses,  shrieks,  and  groans, 

Commingled  wildly  there ! 

And  who  were  those  that,  hand  to  hand, 

Thus  closed  in  deadly  strife? 
Met  patriots  here  a  savage  band, 
Who  swarmed  from  some  far,  barbarous  land, 

To  strike  at  Freedom's  life? 


38  GETTYSBURG. 

No! — let  the  infernal  vaults  below, 

Resound  with  fiendish  glee ; — 
A  brother  was  each  patriot's  foe : 
Fraternal  hands  struck  every  blow 
At  bleeding  Liberty ! 

Degenerate  sons  of  sires  whose  names 

Undying  Fame  shall  own ; — 
Who,  in  the  Revolution's  flames, 
From  fusing  fetters,  forged  the  frames 

Of  Freedom's  lofty  throne ! 

Degenerate  sons,  who,  scorned  and  banned, 

Eternal  shame  shall  know; — 
Who,  recreant  to  their  native  land, 
Lured  by  Ambition,  madly  planned 
Their  country's  overthrow. 

And  here,  upon  this  bloody  ground,— 

To  Freedom  consecrate, — 
The  traitorous  host,  advancing,  found, 


GETTYSBURG.  39 

As  marked  henceforth,  in  many  a  mound, 
The  traitor's  righteous  fate ! 

So,  when  at  first,  in  Heaven  above, 

Foul  perfidy  was  known ; — 
When  vile  Ambition  tainted  love, 
And  impious  Treason  rashly  strove 

Against  the  Eternal  Throne : — 

Before  Omnipotence,  dispersed, 

The  rebel  armies  fell; 
Their  dazzling  dreams  of  power  reversed ; 
Dismayed,  defeated,  crushed,  and  cursed, 

And  headlong  hurled  to  hell ! 

So  perish  all  our  country's  foes ! — 

So,  ever,  frustrate  be 
The  desperate  designs  of  those 
Who,  in  our  destiny,  oppose 

God  and  Humanity ! 


40  GETTYSBURG. 

Two  hostile  hosts  are  gathered  here ; 

Yet,  but  one  banner  waves; — 
Its  starry  folds,  now  doubly  dear, 
Unfurled  by  Victory,  appear 

Above  ten  thousand  graves ! 

Two  hostile  hosts — but  nevermore 

To  meet  in  mortal  strife; 
Defiance  and  defeat,  are  o'er, — 
Nor  love,  nor  hate,  can  now  restore 

One  prostrate  form  to  life ! 

Ten  thousand  graves ! — so,  far  and  wide, 

Before  War's  withering  breath, 
Fall  friends  and  foes,  on  every  side : — 
So  rolls,  through  ruin,  glory's  tide, 
Down  to  the  wastes  of  Death ! 

Yet  here,  where  many  a  patriot  fought, 
And  many  a  martyr  bled ; 


GETTYSBURG.  41 

Shall  memory  dwell — and  painful  thought 
Will  often  turn,  with  pity  fraught, 
To  treason's  nameless  dead. 

But  every  patriot's  dust  will  claim 

Affection's  tenderest  tears; — 
And,  blazoned  on  the  scroll  of  Fame, 
Shall  shine  each  martyred  soldier's  name, 

Through  Time's  remotest  years ! 

And  still,  upon  this  sacred  sod, 

The  children  of  the  Free, 
Who  follow  where  our  fathers  trod, 
Shall  learn  to  trust  our  fathers'  God: — 

The  God  of  Liberty! 


THE    UNION. 

A  NATIONAL  SONG. 

'Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable!' 

WEBSTER. 


THE  Union !     The  Union ! 

The  hope  of  the  free ! 
Howsoe'er  we  may  differ, 

In  this  we  agree : — 
Our  glorious  banner 

No  traitor  shall  mar, 
By  effacing  a  stripe, 

Or  destroying  a  star ! 
Division !     No,  never ! 
The  Union  forever ! 

And  cursed  be  the  hand 
That  our  country  would  sever  ! 

42 


THE    UNION.  43 

The  Union !     The  Union  ! 

'Twas  purchased  with  blood ! 
Side  by  side,  to  secure  it, 

Our  forefathers  stood : — 
From  the  North  to  the  South, 

Through  the  length  of  the  land, 
Kan  the  war-cry  which  summoned 

That  patriot  band ! 
Division !     No,  never ! 
The  Union  forever ! 

And  cursed  be  the  hand 
That  our  country  would  sever  ! 

The  Union  !     The  Union  ! 

At  Lexington  first, 
Through  the  clouds  of  oppression, 

Its  radiance  burst ; — 
But  at  Yorktown  rolled  back 

The  last  vapory  crest, 
And,  a  bright  constellation, 

It  blazed  in  the  West ! 


44  THE    UNION. 

Division  !     No,  never  ! 
The  Union  forever ! 

And  cursed  be  the  hand 
That  our  country  would  sever ! 

The  Union !     The  Union  ! 

Its  heavenly  light 
Cheers  the  hearts  of  the  nations 

Who  grope  in  the  night, — 
And,  athwart  the  wide  ocean, 

Falls,  gilding  the  tides, 
A  path  to  the  country 

Where  Freedom  abides ! 
Division !     No,  never ! 
The  Union  forever ! 

And  cursed  be  the  hand 
That  our  country  would  sever  ! 

The  Union !     The  Union  ! 

In  God  we  repose ! 
We  confide  in  the  power 

That  vanquished  our  foes  ! 


THE    UNION.  45 


i 

The  God  of  our  fathers, — 
Oh,  still  may  He  be 

The  strength  of  the  Union, 
The  hope  of  the  free  ! 

Division  !     No,  never  ! 

The  Union  forever ! 

And  cursed  be  the  hand 

That  our  country  would  sever ! 


THE   SOUTHERN   CONFEDERACY. 

"Say  ye  not  a  confederacy." — ISAIAH  viii.  12. 


AMONG  the  various  things  which  grow 
In  the  miasmatic  swamps  below, 
A  rank  and  poisonous  Ever-green, 
Called  the  Sea-Cedar,  may  be  seen ! 

Now,  it  seems,  some  sapient  souls  of  late, 
Who  thought  they  could  build  a  Ship  of  State, 
Of  this  material  tried  to  form 
A  craft  to  defy  a  Northern  storm ! 

But  a  Northern  storm,  though  sometimes  slow, 
When  it  once  wakes  up,  and  begins  to  blow, 

46 


THE  SOUTHERN  CONFEDERACY.       47 

As  it  shakes  the  earth,  and  sweeps  the  seas, 
Is  very  unlike  a  Southern  breeze! 

And  thus,  when  this  Southern  ship  had  made 
But  a  few  brief  miles  on  a  Northern  raid, 
There  rose  to  meet  her  so  fierce  a  gale 
That  she  deemed  it  prudent  to  shorten  sail ! 

But  'twas  rather  late  when  the  caution  came — 
The  billows  were  dark,  and  the  clouds  a-flame; 
A  hurricane  blew  in  every  breath, 
And  standing  athwart  her  path  was  Death ! 

So,  shattered  and  tost  by  the  tempest's  force, 
And  drifting  aside  from  her  vaunted  course, 
With  a  desperate  Lee- way,  she  tried  to  tack, 
And  make  her  escape  by  turning  back ! 

But  a  ship  must  travel  extremely  fast 
If  she  hopes  to  outstrip  a  Northern  blast — 
And  she  was  exceedingly  glad  to  reach, 
In  a  ruinous  state,  a  Southern  beach ! 


48        THE  SOUTHERN  CONFEDERACY. 

In  a  ruinous  State !  And  there,  I  ween, 

For  many  a  day,  will  the  wreck  be  seen — 

And  the  tale  be  told,  how  that  Southern  ship          • 

Succeeded  in  making  a  Northern  trip ! 


GOD   SAVE   OUR  PRESIDENT! 

A  NATIONAL  SONG. 


ALL  hail !     Unfurl  the  stripes  and  stars ! 

The  banner  of  the  free ! 
Ten  times  ten  thousand  patriots  greet 

The  shrine  of  Liberty ! 

Come,  with  one  heart,  one  hope,  one  aim, 
i 

An  undivided  band, 
To  elevate,  with  solemn  rites, 
The  ruler  of  our  land ! 

Not  to  invest  a  potentate 

With  robes  of  majesty, — 
Not  to  confer  a  kingly  crown, 

Nor  bend  a  subject  knee. 

,*  49 


50  GOD  SAVE  DUE  PKESIDENT. 

We  bow  beneath  no  sceptred  sway, 
Obey  no  royal  nod : — 

Columbia's  sons,  erect  and  free, 
i 

Kneel  only  to  their  God ! 

i 

Our  ruler  boasts  no  titled  rank, 

No  ancient,  princely  line, — 
No  regal  right  to  sovereignty, 

Ancestral  and  divine. 
A  patriot, — at  his  country's  call, 

Responding  to  her  voice ; 
One  of  the  people, — he  becomes 

A  sovereign  by  our  choice ! 

And  now,  before  the  mighty  pile 
We've  reared  to  Liberty, 

He  swears  to  cherish  and  defend 
The  charter  of  the  free ! 

God  of  our  country !     Seal  his  oath 
With  thy  supreme  assent. 

^ 

God  save  the  Union  of  the  States ! 
God  save  our  President ! 


GLENDINNING. 


A  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  CAPTAIN  JAMES  GLENDINNING, 

WHO    FELL    AT    CHATTANOOGA,  OCTOBEE    28TH,    1863. 


ANOTHER  precious  offering, 

In  self-devotion  made; 
Another  bleeding  sacrifice 

On  Freedom's  altar  laid ; 
Another  warrior  at  rest, 

Where  conflict  is  unknown; 
Another  martyr  'mid  the  host 

Before  the  Eternal  Throne. 

Could  we  have  pierced  the  sulphurous  pall 
Above  that  bloody  fight, — 

51 


52  GLENDINNING. 

Could  we  have  gained  the  view  which  met 
That  dying  soldier's  sight, — 

We  should  have  seen  an  angel-band, 
Poised  in  the  upper  air; 

"We  should  have  seen  a  glittering  crown 
And  palm  of  victory  there. 

By  nature  ardent,  kind  and  true, 

By  faith  to  heaven  allied, 
A  Christian  patriot  he  lived, 

A  Christian  hero  died. 
And  in  the  record  of  the  brave, 

Which  Freedom  gives  to  Fame, 
Beloved,  through  all  succeeding  time, 

Shall  be  GLENDINNING'S  name. 


THE   STARS   AND   STRIPES. 


THE  Stars  and  Stripes !  What  hand  shall  dare 
To  desecrate  the  flag  we  bear! 
The  flag  of  stars,  whose  cheering  light 
Beamed  through  oppression's  gloomy  night ! 
The  flag  of  stripes,  whose  heavenly  dyes 
Flashed  Freedom's  day-spring  through  the  skies ! 
Our  flag!  The  standard  of  the  free! 
Symbol  of  hope  and  liberty ! 

The  Stars  and  Stripes !     What  memories  rise, 
Whene'er  that  banner  greets  our  eyes ! 
By  patriots  borne,  o'er  land  and  sea, 
It  led  the  way  to  victory ! 

53 


54  THE   STARS   AND   STRIPES. 

When  slaughter  swept  the  surging  main — 
When  carnage  strewed  the  crimson  plain — 
It  marked  the  spot  where  heroes  stood, 
It  was  baptized  in  heroes'  blood ! 

The  Stars  and  Stripes !  What  power  shall  stay 
Immortal  Freedom's  onward  way ! 
The  heavens  are  the  triumphal  arch 
Through  which  she  takes  her  mighty  march ! 
Her  mighty  march !     Nor  shall  she  halt 
Till,  like  the  spangled  azure  vault, 
Her  glittering  ensign  floats,  unfurled, 
Bound  an  emancipated  world! 


THE    STIGMA. 


It  is  related  that,  some  thirty  years  ago,  Jo  hn  O. 
Calhoun,  a  Senator  of  the  United  /States,  from  the 
State  of  South  Carolina,  and  at  that  time  employed 
in  perfecting  the  great  J\Tullification  scheme  of  which 
he  was  the  author,  was,  one  "night,  at  a  late  hour, 
seated  in  his  room,  alone,  and  engaged  in  writing, 
when,  falling"  asleep,  he  had  a  dream,  the  incidents 
of  wJiich  are  here  woven  into  verse. 

57 


THE   STIGMA. 


"  Between  the  acting  of  a  dreadful  thing 
And  the  first  motion,  all  the  interim  is 
Like  a  phantasma,  or  a  hideous  dream." 

SHAKSPEARE. 


IN  a  chamber  grand  and  gloomy,  in  the  shadow  of 
the  night, 

Two  wax  tapers  flaming  faintly,  burned  with  a  se 
pulchral  light, — 

On  an  oval  oaken  table,  from  their  silver  stands 
they  shone, 

Where,  about  them,  in  disorder,  books  and  manu 
scripts  were  strown; 

Where,  before  them,  sat  a  statesman,  silent, 
thoughtful,  and  alone ! 

59 


60  THE    STIGMA. 

Suddenly,  a  stranger  entered — entered  with  a  se 
rious  air, 

And,  with  steady  step  advancing,  near  the  table 
drew  a  chair ! 

Folded  in  an  ample  mantle,  carefully  concealed 
from  sight, 

There  he  sat,  and  his  companion  watched  him, 
through  the  wavering  light, 

Wondering  at  his  bold  intrusion,  unannounced,  and 
in  the  night ! 

Wondering  at  his  staid  demeanor,  wondering  that 
no  word  he  spoke, 

Wondering  that  he  veiled  his  visage  in  the  volume 
of  his  cloak — 

Till,  as  though  unwilling,  longer,  satisfaction  to 
postpone, 

"Senator  from  Carolina" — said  he,  in  a  solemn 
tone — 

"What  are  you  engaged  in  writing,  here,  at  mid 
night,  and  alone?" 


THE    STIGMA.  61 

Then,  the  statesman  answered  promptly,  "Tis  a 

plan  which  consummates, 
When  complete,  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  of  the 

States." 
Whereupon,  rejoined  the  stranger,  in  an  accent  of 

command, 
"  Senator  from  Carolina,  let  me  look  at  your  right 

hand." 
And  the  statesman  had  no  power  that  calm  dictate 

to  withstand ! 

Slowly,  then,  uprose  the  stranger,  and  the  startled 

statesman  saw, 
From  the  falling  cloak  emerging,  one  from  whom 

he  shrunk  with  awe! 
Stern  and  stately,  stood  before  him,  Freedom's  first 

and  favorite  son — 
He     whose     patriotic    valor     universal     homage 

won — 
He  who  gave  the  world  the  Union — the  immortal 

WASHINGTON  ! 


62  THE   STIGMA. 

And  lie   thrilled  with    strange    emotion,   in    the 

Patriot's  steadfast  gaze, 
As  he  held  the  hand  he  proffered,  held  it  near  the 

taper's  blaze, — 
As  he  thoughtfully  proceeded, — "Then  you  would, 

with  this  right  hand, 
Senator     from.     Carolina,    desolate     your     native 

land, — 
You  would  sign  a  Declaration,  this  fair  Union  to 

disband?" 

And  the  Senator  responded:  "Yes,  should  chance 

such  service  claim, 
To  an  Act  of  Dissolution  I  would  freely  sign  my 

name." 
But,  the  words  were  scarcely  spoken,  when,  amazed, 

he  saw  expand, 
Dim  at  first,  then  deeper,  darker,  an  unsightly, 

blackened  brand, 
Like  a  loathsome,  leprous  plague-spot,  on  the  back 

of  his  right  hand ! 


THE    STIGMA.  63 

"What  is  that?"  he   cried,  with   horror,  as  the 

dreadful  stigma  spread — 
And,  the  Patriot's  grasp  relaxing,  undisturbed,  he 

gravely  said : 
"  That  black  blotch  your  hand  o'erspreading,  is  the 

mark  by  which  they  know 
One  who,  honored  by  his  country,  basely  sought  its 

overthrow — 
That  detested  traitor,  ARNOLD, — in  the  dismal  world 

below!" 

Pausing  then,  he,  from  his  mantle,  drew  an  object 

toward  the  light, — 
Placed  it  on  the  oaken  table,  in  the  shuddering 

statesman's  sight, — 
Placed  it  on  the  very  writing  which  that  traitorous 

hand  had  done, — 
Still,  and  stark,  and  grim,  and  ghastly — 'twas  a 

human  skeleton ! 
There  it  lay — and  then  he  added,  calmly,  as  he  had 

begun : 


64  THE    STIGMA. 

"  Here,  behold  the  sacred  relics  of  a  man  who,  long 

ago, 
Died,  at  Charleston,  on  a  gibbet,  murdered  by  a 

ruthless  foe, — 
ISAAC  HAYNE,  who  fell  a  martyr,  laying  down  his 

life  with  joy, 
To  confirm  this  noble  Union,  which  you  wantonly 

employ 
Powers,  for  virtuous  ends  intended,  treacherously 

to  destroy. 

"  When  you  sign  a  solemn  compact,  this  blest  bond 

to  disunite, 
Lying  here,  upon  your  table,  you  should  have  his 

bones  in  sight. 
He  was  born  in  Carolina, — so  were  you, — but,  all 

in  vain 
Will  you  look  for  Treason's  stigma — will  you  seek 

the  slightest  stain 
On  the  hand  of  that  pure  patriot,  the  right  hand 

of  ISAAC  HAYNE!" 


THE    STIGMA.  65 

t 

Saying  this,  the  stranger  vanished,  but  the  skeleton 
remained, 

And  the  black  and  blasting  stigma  still  that  trai 
torous  hand  retained ! 

Sinking  in  their  silver  sockets,  fainter  still  the 
tapers  gleamed; 

Suddenly,  athwart  the  chamber,  morning's  rosy 
radiance  streamed, 

And  the  statesman,  wan  and  weary,  wondering, 
woke — for  he  had  dreamed ! 

He  had  dreamed — but,  pause  and  ponder,  you  who 

would  the  Union  rend — 
Ponder,  at  the  bare  beginning,  on  the  foul  and  fatal 

end : — 
Ponder  on  dark  desolation  sweeping  through  this 

cherished  land — 
Heavy  hearts,  forsaken  firesides,  waste  and  woe, 

wild  War's  demand — 
Ponder  on  the  Traitor's  Stigma — pause,  and  look 

at  your  right  hand  ! 


OUR   HEROES. 


CHEERS  !  Cheers,  for  our  heroes ! 

Not  those  who  wear  stars  ; 
Not  those  who  wear  eagles, 

And  leaflets,  and  bars  ; 
We  know  they  are  gallant, 

And  honor  them,  too, 
For  bravely  maintaining 

The  Red,  White,  and  Blue! 

But,  cheers  for  our  soldiers,  • 
Rough,  wrinkled,  and  brown  ; 

The  men  who  MAKE  heroes, 
And  ask  no  renown  : — 


OUR   HEROES.  67 

Unselfish,  untiring, 

Intrepid,  and  true; 
The  bulwark  surrounding 

The  Bed,  White,  and  Blue ! 

Our  patriot  soldiers ! 

When  Treason  arose, 
And  Freedom's  own  children 

Assailed  her  as  foes ; 
When  Anarchy  threatened, 

And  Order  withdrew, 
They  rallied  to  rescue 

The  Ked,  White,  and  Blue! 

Upholding  our  banner, 

On  many  a  field, 
The  doom  of  the  traitor 

They  valiantly  sealed ; 
And,  worn  with  the  conflict, 

Found  vigor  anew, 
Where  Victory  greeted 

The  Red,  White,  and  Blue ! 


68  OUR    HEROES. 

Yet,  loved  ones  have  fallen — 

And  still,  where  they  sleep, 
A  sorrowing  Nation 

Shall  silently  weep; 
And  Spring's  fairest  flowers, 

In  gratitude,  strew, 
O'er  those  who  have  cherished 

The  Bed,  White,  and  Blue ! 

But,  glory  immortal 

Is  waiting  them  now; 
And  chaplets  unfading 

Shall  bind  every  brow, 
When,  called  by  the  trumpet, 

At  Time's  great  review, 
They  stand,  who  defended 

The  Bed,  White,  and  Blue! 


RAMS. 


WHO,  indeed,  would  have  thought 
that  it  ever  could  chance 

That  dogmatical  Eng 
land,  and  complaisant  France, 

Who  have  always  known  ev 
erything  under  the  sun ; 

Who  have  always  thought  first 
of  whatever  we've  done; 

Who  have  scarce  deigned  our  Ea 
gle  the  slightest  salam — 

Should  fall  flat,  to  adore 
an  American  Earn ! 

69 


EAMS. 

There  have  always  been  Earns ! 
Father  Adam,  we  know, 

Found  some  Rams  in  his  gar 
den,  a  long  time  ago ; 

In  the  raising  of  Rams, 

Abel  took  much  delight; 

And  a  Ram  was  concerned 

in  the  very  first  fight — 

And  the  first  Ram  afloat, 

we  may  further  remark, 

Was  the  Ram  which  old  No 
ah  took  into  the  Ark ! 

Then,  it  seems,  there  were  Rams 

which  were  tied  up,  in  stalls, 

Driven  out  to  do  bat 
tle  by  butting  down  walls — 

Alexander,  Marcel- 

lus,  and  Sylla,  we  find, 

Had  a  great  many  Rams 

of  this  desperate  kind, 


EAMS.  71 

And  when  Titus  encamped 

'mid  Jerusalem's  palms, 

It  is  said  that  the  He 
brews  saw  nothing  but  Earns ! 

After  these,  there  came  Earns 
not  inclining  to  fights — 

Earns  resembling  good  Josh 
ua's  Gibeonites — 

Which  were  "  drawers  of  wa 
ter  " — Hydraulical  Earns — 

Quite  domestic,  and  com 
monly  found  with  their  Dams ! 

May  such  Earns  still  contin 
ue  to  thrive  and  increase, 

With  the  limitless  Eam- 
ifications  of  peace ! 

Thus,  we  Eam-ble  along, 

through  the  cycles  of  Time, 

Finding  History's  Eam- 

page  is  rather  sublime ! 


EAMS. 

But  the  Earn  of  all  Earns, 

is  the  Earn  of  our  day, 

Which  is  shaking  the  world 

with  a  Eam-pant  dismay ! 

Iron-harnessed,  steam  driv 
en,  it  sweeps  o'er  the  sea — 

Our  American  Earn- 
part  ! — the  shield  of  the  free ! 


THE 

WIDOW'S  SON. 


DEDICATED 

TO   THK 

®nitcb  States 

CHRISTIAN  COMMISSION, 


THE   WIDOW'S   SON. 

"The  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow." 

LUKE  vii.  12. 


IN  the  green  Valley  of  the  Cumberland, 
And  where  the  rugged  mountain  range  divides — 
A  lofty  portal,  walled  on  either  hand, 
Through  which  the  silver  Susquehanna  glides — 
Half  hidden,  in  the  shadow  of  the  wood, 
An  unpretending,  moss-grown  cottage  stood. 

An  humble  place,  yet  full  of  calm  content; 
The  home  of  two,  whose  loving  hearts  were  one — 
Old  age  and  youth,  in  pure  affection,  blent; 
A  widowed  mother,  and  an  only  son. 
So  the  green  ivy  clasps  the  tottering  wall, 
Each  holding  each,  till  both,  together,  fall ! 

77 


78  THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

She  lived  for  him — and  still,  at  night  and  morn. 
Committed  him,  in  secret,  to  her  God ; 
His  life  was  hers- — his  aim  to  pluck  each  thorn 
Which  lay  before  her,  in  the  path  they  trod : 
His  highest  hope,  her  sorrows  to  beguile ; 
And  his  supreme  reward,  his  mother's  smile. 

Thus,  undisturbed,  the  peaceful  days  went  by, 
And  all  around  gave  promise  of  repose; 
When  slowly,  in  the  sunny  Southern  sky, 
An  angry  cloud,  with  gathering  blackness,  rose — 
The  elements,  in  strange  commotion,  stirred, 
And  muttering  thunders  in  the  air  were  heard. 

It  came  apace — the  storm  of  civil  war — 

And  the  bright  heavens  with  darkness  were  o'ercast ; 

From  hill  to  hill,  the  bale-fires  blazed  afar, 

And,  through  the  vales,  shrieked  the  shrill  bugle 

blast : 

While,  from  the  North,  rushed  Freedom's  loyal  sons, 
In  prompt  response  to  Sumter's  signal  guns ! 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON.  79 

No  patriot  paused — from  every  dwelling,  then, 

Rose  the  stern  chorus  of  the  battle-cry: 

The  dusty  highway  teemed  with  armed  men, 

Resolved  to  conquer — and  content  to  die : 

And,  with  that  dauntless  host,  was  numbered  one, 

Known,  from  his  childhood,  as  "The  Widow's  Son." 

Dark  was  the  day,  when  sad,  but  self-possessed, 
He  left  his  mother,  at  the  cottage  door : 
In  tears,  she  pressed  him  to  her  aching  breast ; 
With  trembling  lips,  she  blessed  him  o'er  and  o'er : 
Then,  sweetly  smiling,  to  disguise  her  woe, 
Blessed  him  again — and,  calmly,  bade  him  go. 

She  gazed  upon  his  form,  as  through  the  wood, 
Ne'er  looking  back,  he  hurriedly  withdrew; 
And  lingering,  at  the  open  door-way,  stood, 
Long  after  he  had  vanished  from  her  view  : 
And  still,  with  feeble  step,  she  came  each  day, 
To  watch  the  path  by  which  he  passed  away. 


80  THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

But,  even  then,  she  wished  not  his  return ; 
For  she  had  yielded  him  at  Duty's  shrine ; 
And,  though  the  summons  had  seemed  almost  stern, 
She  had  not  faltered,  and  did  not  repine : — 
She  deemej^  him  now,  still  dearer  than  before, 
And  yet,  she  loved  her  suffering  country  more. 

The  months  wore  on — the  changing  seasons  passed, 

And,  faithful  to  his  trust,  he  wearied  not; 

But,  through  the  burning  heat,  and  freezing  blast, 

Met,  with  a  cheerful  zeal,  his  toilsome  lot — 

A  patriot  soldier,  whose  heroic  heart, 

Of  Freedom's  mighty  bulwark,  formed  a  part. 

'Twas  in  the  Autumn,  and  the  sinking  sun 
Tipped  the  green  hill-tops  with  a  golden  glow; 
Where  the  bright  waves  of  the  Antietam  run, 
Through  blooming  banks,  to  fertile  fields  below : 
Where  Nature  has  bestowed,  with  lavish  hand, 
Her  richest  gifts  to  gladden  Maryland. 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON.  81 

The  sky  was  cloudless,  and  the  air  serene : 

The  distance  faded  in  the  closing  light : 

When,  from  above,  to  sanctify  the  scene, 

The  saintly  stars  came  beaming  through  the  night : — 

But,  in  the  darkness,  on  the  earth  beneath, 

Stalked  bloody  "War, — and,  by  his  side,  was  Death ! 

For,  in  that  valley,  stretching  far  away, 
Beyond  the  margin  of  the  crystal  flood, 
Rebellion's  recreant  host,  in  fierce  array, 
Led  by  the  minions  of  foul  Treason,  stood : — 
While,  to  the  verge  of  the  opposing  bank, 
The  Patriot  army  rested,  rank  on  rank. 

The  morning  dawned — but  scarcely  dawned,  before 
The  din  of  battle,  on  the  silence  broke; 
Hurled,  in  the  blazing  cannon's  deafening  roar, 
Down  the  dim  vale,  through  clouds  of  sulphurous 

smoke : — 

Then,  swept  the  Patriot  squadrons  through  the  tide, 
And  deadly  conflict  raged,  on  every  side* 


82  THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

The  flaming  lines  fought  sternly — hand  to  hand : 
The  stifling  air  was  rent  with  shot  and  shell, 
The  rattling  musket,  and  the  clashing  brand, 
The  clanging  trumpet,  and  the  piercing  yell; 
While  frantic  steeds  rushed,  riderless,  away, 
And  crushed  the  dead  and  dying,  as  they  lay. 

Great  was  the  slaughter — o'er  the  crimson  field, 
From  heaps  of  carnage,  rose  expiring  groans : — 
When  suddenly,  above  the  combat,  pealed 
The  trump  of  Victory,  in  exultant  tones, 
As  Treason's  banner,  with  its  bloody  bars, 
Fell  to  the  dust,  before  the  Stripes  and  Stars ! 

The  strife  was  ended,  and  the  battle  won; 

The  troubled  air  grew  tranquil,  as  before; 

And,  in  the  effulgence  of  the  setting  sun, 

The  verdant  hills  were  beautified,  once  more : — - 

But,  thousands  who  had  hailed  that  opening  morn, 

Were  ghastly,  broken,  bleeding,  and  forlorn. 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON.  83 

'Twas  on  that  night — and,  in  a  shattered  wood, 
Torn  in  the  fight,  and  open  to  the  sky; 
With  mangled  frame,  and  faint  from  loss  of  blood, 
A  youthful  soldier  had  lain  down  to  die. — 
Though  many  a  friendly  form  was  round  him  strewn, 
He  rested  there  in  silence — and  alone. 

It  was  "The  Widow's  Son;" — with  upturned  face, 

His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  starry  dome; 

But  painful  consciousness  had  given  place 

To  a  sweet  vision  of  his  happy  home : — 

His  mother  met  him  at  the  open  door, — 

She  clasped  him  in  her  loving  arms,  once  more ! 

The  fancy  fled : — he  turned  his  gaze  below, 
And,  in  the  distance,  through  the  shade,  descried, 
One,  with  a  flaming  torch,  pass,  to  and  fro, 
Who  drawing  near,  came  quickly  to  his  side; 
And  kneeling  by  him,  on  the  bloody  ground, 
Essayed,  with  care,  to  stanch  each  streaming  wound. 


84  THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

He  seemed  a  stranger ; — and,  in  mute  surprise, 
The  soldier  scanned  his  kindly  features  o'er : — 
No  martial  badge  adorned  his  simple  guise ; 
No  glittering  weapon  at  his  side,  he  wore : — 
But,  in  the  sacred  bond  of  sympathy, 
A  BROTHER,  and  a  CHRISTIAN,  claimed  to  be. 

A  CHRISTIAN  BROTHER — of  that  noble  Band 
Who  practice  what  the  blessed  Saviour  taught : — 
Whose  labors  are  the  glory  of  our  land ; 
Whose  great  commission  from  high  heaven  was 

brought, 

When,  o'er  the  silent  plains  of  Bethlehem,  rang 
The  blissful  anthem  which  the  angels  sang ! 

He  brought  the  sufferer  from  the  dreary  wood, 
And  through  the  field,  amid  the  prostrate  dead, 
Down  to  the  roadside,  where  a  cottage  stood, 
And  found  him,  there,  a  shelter  and  a  bed; 
Then,  smoothed  his  throbbing  brow,  and  tangled 

hair, 
And  watched  him,  with  a  father's  tender  care. 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON.  85 

But  all  in  vain — for,  with  the  waning  night, 

His  breath  grew  shorter,  and  his  strength  failed  fast, 

'Till,  in  the  early  morning's  misty  light, 

The  hour  approached  which  was  to  be  the  last; 

And,  with  a  quivering  lip,  and  tearful  eye, 

The  faithful  stranger  told  him  he  must  die : — 

Then,  drawing  still  more  closely  to  his  side, 
Spoke  of  the  Saviour's  love  to  fallen  men; 
Of  Him  who,  sinless,  for  the  sinful  died, 
Yet  lives,  that  those  who  die  may  live  again : — 
And  falling  on  his  knees,  in  earnest  prayer, 
He  bore  him  to  the  Cross,  and  left  him  there. 

That  prayer  prevailed — the  soldier  raised  his  eyes, 

And  softly  whispered,  "Lord  remember  me," — 

When  lo !  as  from  the  gates  of  paradise, 

He  seemed  an  angel,  in  the  gloom,  to  see : — 

A  heavenly  glory  o'er  his  features  spread, 

He  breathed  his  mother's  name — and  he  was  dead ! 


86  THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

'Twas  on  that  night — the  widow  sat  alone, 
Within  her  little  cottage  in  the  vale ; — 
Her  thin  white  hair  had  still  more  silvery  grown, 
Her  brow  more  furrowed,  and  her  cheek  more  pale ; 
Some  strong  presentiment  had  banished  sleep, 
And  held  her  thus,  a  weary  watch  to  keep. 

The  hours  went  on — she  noted  not  their  flight; — 
She  rose,  and  slowly  tottered  to  the  door; 
And,  in  the  rising  moon's  uncertain  light, 
Grazed  down  the  path  she  oft  had  watched  before : — 
She  saw  a  figure— through  the  wood  it  pressed, 
And  her  lost  son  was  folded  on  her  breast ! 

The  day  appeared — its  brightening  glory  gleamed, 
Down  the  dark  mountain,  'mid  the  vapory  air, 
And  through  the  little  cottage  window  streamed; 
But  all  was  silent — only  Death  was  there. — 
For,  'ere  that  morning  cast  its  beams  abroad, 
The  Widow,  with  her  Son,  had  gone  to  God ! 


LAUS   DEO. 

A    HYMS    FOR    NATIONAL    THANKSGIVING. 

GLORY  to  God !  We  humbly  bend 

In  grateful  adoration ; 
And  mingled  prayer  and  praise  ascend- 

Thanksgiving  from  a  nation ! 

Glory  to  God,  who  brought  our  sires 

Across  the  trackless  ocean, 
To  kindle  here  the  altar  fires 

Of  national  devotion ! 

Glory  to  God,  through  whom  we  rose 
To  trample  on  oppression — 

87 


LAUS  DEO.       • 

Who  led  us,  over  fallen  foes, 
To  Freedom's  fair  possession ! 

Glory  to  God,  for  fostering  care, 
Parental  love  transcending; 

For  gifts  and  goodness  everywhere, 
Unmerited — unending ! 

Glory  to  God !  For  boundless  grace, 

We  offer  our  oblations : 
Oh,  be  our  land  His  dwelling-place, 

Through  endless  generations ! 


A.  H  ». 


